Anything but Ordinary
by Mori art ti
Summary: She was unique, that was for sure. Sociopaths typically are unique, after all. Nothing overly exciting happens to her typically, until she moves to London and runs into John Watson. Moving into 221c will cause a world of adventure for Sarisha Holdell...Sherlock/OFC
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! Welcome to my new story. This will be finished very soon because I know exactly where I want to go with it and also...it's summer break! This is the first of hopefully many stories to come this summer. Reviews are, as always welcome, and I will respond to any questions that are asked.  
This is a Sherlock fanfiction. There WILL be spoilers for series one and two, so if you have not seen them (you should, first of all) and do not want them ruined, do not read until after. I haven't yet decided if my OC is going to end up with Sherlock or Jim...regardless, there will be a story for each of them eventually so keep in tune for that.  
I do not own Sherlock, or any of the characters in the story besides my OC. Please, enjoy!**

Preface  
It was not in the slightest her idea of a perfect day. A perfect day would be spent entirely alone, playing the piano, reading books, writing and sitting in her chair thinking about how everything around her was totally, completely and utterly ordinary. No but of course that couldn't happen; not today, not yesterday, not tomorrow, not ever. The more she thought about it, it was highly unlikely, wasn't it? In a world made up of billions of people she was bound to have contact with at least one everyday. The rest could typically be worked in somewhere, but not nearly as much as she would hope.  
Boring. Everything was boring. She could only withdrawal into the database called her mind for so long until she become dreadfully bored. She could only play the most complex pieces on the piano until she grew tired of the same dreadful notes, and even after she composed her own pieces she could only do so for so long. Reading and writing, they were entertaining because there are, after all, an infinite amount of subjects to be studied. The more she read, the more she could experiment, which lead her to learn and therefore expand her database and think more. It was, it seemed, a never ending cycle of learning, experimentation, and thought. It had been so since she was young, even as an infant she enjoyed the extensive process of learning, experimenting and thinking. But as she grew, so did her intelligence. Her parents could hardly deal with her, as was the same with her siblings. By the age of sixteen, her IQ had been rated at about 186. It would be higher, if she didn't block out senseless information that was not useful to her.  
Her siblings and peers despised her for her talents. Ever since she was younger they'd despised her. Her siblings hadn't been born with the same intelligence she had, and the other children she attended school with were pathetically ordinary. In fact, those around her were so ordinary it almost made her laugh. Her teachers were daft in comparison to her, it wasn't long before she was smarter than the insolent adults that were paid to "teach" her. The teachers, by the time she was eight, began to resent her as well, and her parents were forced to pull her from conventional schools and keep her at home to teach herself. Her parents soon, however, could also not deal with the burden of a gifted child, so they too began to withdrawal any affection they had ever given to her and avoid their own child altogether, focusing on their ordinary, normal children.  
Sarisha would never understand why humanity was so content with being normal and ordinary when even those born as such could accommodate themselves with knowledge and, hopefully, improve their intelligence and self worth at least slightly as to not be dreadfully boring. But that's all anything was. Boring. Dull. Droll.  
Many would say it's not right for a woman, let alone a woman under the age of thirty, to be living alone. Even in the modern day, women were expected to be boarded up with a man by the age of twenty-five so their lives could become a new kind of dull. The name of that dull lifestyle? Domesticism. The domestic life was a life Sarisha Marie Hodell had thus far avoided. She managed to make good enough pay as an esteemed author. But living in Dublin, Ireland had gotten dull. Everything did. Dublin had been the most recent of many moves since she was eighteen and old enough to do as she pleased. But recently, she had been called to London, England. She didn't quite know what called her there, but as soon as she stepped foot in the city, she knew she had made the right decision. For a highly functioning sociopath who was incredibly cut off from her emotions, the moment she stepped in the city she knew she was home, and she had just completed the last move she would ever need to make. She felt at peace and maybe...happy? Yes, she was certain this was an emotion most people felt everyday. And with her stepping foot in London, her adventures began.  
*****Chapter One*****  
I'd been in London for all of an hour and I knew it was my home. While typically being in a large city with thousands of people would make me uneasy, there was a sort of calm that washed over me. The rush of the city was not a bother, the crowds of people that seemed never ending not terribly horrifying and the ever raising volumes unmaddening. I knew I would never have to move again, unless something horrible were to happen to her...not likely seeing as she never left her flats.  
Her flats...well, that was the first problem, wasn't it? I didn't have one now. I did have a man in a truck waiting with her things on call for when she found a flat, but it was proving to be a challenge. I had been walking around the streets for now a little over an hour, and I could not find anything. I was close to giving up, but I decided to take a break in a small cafe on a strip called Baker Street...it seemed quiet enough in the cafe, so I could take a moment for some tea without being terribly bothered.  
As I was walking in, however, I was terribly bothered, for the moment my body entered the door, I ran into a man.  
He wasn't very tall, I deduced within seconds he was only 1.69 meters tall, which was significantly taller than my height of 1.6002 meters, but for a man he was definitely below average. His dark blue eyes were kind, the eyes of someone who strived to take care of people., therefore his profession must have dealt with people, probably a doctor or educator. His hair was blonde with the beginnings of greying, but he did not appear to seem very old. He must be under stress, possibly from his job but more likely from previous life experiences. Upon looking at the cut of his hair and the stitching of his jacket, she concluded the stress came from being an army man, probably in Iraq or Afghanistan. I concluded he was an army doctor. He was clean kept and looked very healthy, though the bags under his eyes said he had not slept a full nights' sleep in quite some time. Regardless, the man offered me a warm smile.  
"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't see you coming into the shop." His voice was warm, and I couldn't help but smile lightly at his friendliness.  
"No need to apologize, I didn't see you coming out. It would seem we both are to blame." Upon me speaking, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open a little. I was puzzled by this, the look in his eyes told me he recognized me, but I knew I'd never met this man before. "Have I startled you?"  
"No...no, my apologies...it's just." His eyes became ever curious as he gazed into my own. "Your voice...the tone you use. It reminds me of a fr-...my flatmate. I've never met anyone with the same tone, let alone anyone like him and oddly enough, you remind me immensely of the man..."  
"It's lucky you have a flatmate. I'm new into London, I haven't found myself a flat yet. Been looking for an hour...no such luck."  
"My landlady...she has an available flat in our basement. No one has ever wanted to rent it out because...well, it's in the basement and my flatmate can be a bit...disruptive. It's in the building right next door, 221 Baker Street. She's in 221a, I'm in 221b with my flatmate and 221c is available. She doesn't charge much, and I'm sure she'd welcome you in." I must have been giving a perplexed look, because his eyes quickly became worried and apologetic. "I'm very sorry, it must be odd for me to be telling you this...you barely know me, after all, I forget since my move in with my mate it's customary for people to know each other before such things..sorry. I'm Doctor John Watson."  
He smiled warmly and held out his hand to mine, which I gently shook in my red leather gloved one. It wad very kind of him to offer me the flat below his, but he'd probably revoke it after my next words to him.  
"Barely know you? Doctor, I'm afraid I know much about you already. I knew you were a doctor already, but what you failed to mention in your introduction was that you are a military doctor, army specifically, of course. You are just back from the war, though you've began treatment at a therapist for a nervous tremor and limp from a bullet wound, although I regret to inform that the limp is psychosomatic. You suffer from sleep loss, possibly from nightmares due to the war. The nervous tremor is assumed to be because you suffer from post traumatic stress disorder, although I can tell you it's because you miss the war. The nightmares are actually dreams, because again, you miss the war and are trying to remember it as best you can. You miss the excitement that either Iraq or Afghanistan brought you, I can't tell which it is. Your new flatmate is what interests me deeply, you smell of many scientific chemicals, but you're still unemployed which means you have to be in touch with these chemicals at home. You don't seem like a man to experiment, which means your flatmate is the one using all of those chemicals. The chemicals I recognize the scents to interest me, they are chemicals only a highly intelligent man would use in his own home. And by your previous observation of the tone in my voice, I can assume the man is as intelligent as I believe his, because my voice is laced with intelligence." I finished lightly and looked into his eyes again. His entire face was marked with surprise and shock, his jaw slacked and eyes wide. "Oh and...for what it's worth, my name is Sarisha Marie Hodell and I am very much so interested in flat 221c."


	2. Chapter 2-Meet the Neighbors

Hey guys! Thanks for the favorites/follows from so many of you so far. As I've said, I'm working on a chapter per day, so we're moving right along. I'm going to begin changing the point of view a bit every once in a while. Primarily, it will be in Sarisha's point of view but at certain points I will want it in third person. I will mark when these changes take place.  
Enjoy, and as always reviews are welcome and I own nothing but Sarisha!  
***Chapter Two***  
The flat was, happily, right next to the cafe the two had been in. Walking in, the building seemed cozy enough. It was a perfect temperature, not too hot but not nearly close to being too cold. The lights in the entry way were dim and the decor dark, so there was no worry of the light hurting my eyes.  
To the left, a door sat slightly opened, and it was obvious by a glimpse of the inside that it was the flat of the landlady. A door to the right held flat 221c, and up the stairs could only be 221b, where John and his flatmate lived.  
"Sarisha?" The sound of John's voice startled me and I gave a slight jump, turning quickly to gaze to the man. Next to him, a petite elderly women stood, a gentle smile on her face. "I'm sorry to startle you...this is my landlady, Mrs. Hudson. I've just told her you're interested in the basement flat...she wants to interview you and show you the flat to be sure you're a right fit."  
I slowly tore my attention from John and focused my eyes on the woman, Mrs. Hudson. She seemed sweet, gentle a caring woman. She was widowed, but by no means distraught by the fact. She was dressed traditionally and comfortably, and but like she was ready to do housework, such as cleaning. Something told me she acted as sort of a housekeeper for the men rather than just a landlady.  
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hudson, thank you for having me in your home at such short notice. I would apologize for interrupting your day but it seems as though you were only about to clean John and his mate's flat, which surely they can do themselves. How about us girls have some relaxation time over a cup of tea while John sees to his flat being presentable?" Mrs. Hudson's face showed a bit of shock but more amusement, while John gave a soft snort and chuckle. The elderly woman's face broke out in a smile and she nodded.  
"Of course, dear. I'll have someone come in during tea to replace the carpet and wallpaper in the basement flat...you're more than welcome to it. Rather cold and damp, but there's a fireplace to make you comfortable enough. Please, go on into my flat and make yourself at home, I'll be joining you in a moment." As soon as the woman was certain I was distant enough to no longer hear, she urgently turned to John. "Phone Sherlock, dear. He'll want to meet your new neighbor. They're...remarkably similar, I feel."  
(John Watson POV)  
"John, I really don't see it as imperative for me to meet our new neighbor immediately. They will be living just below me, if they don't grow tired of my noise quickly I am bound, statistically, to run into the person at least once. You've torn me away from my work for this, you know. It was very important." I could have guessed Sherlock would react this way. To him, meeting someone was unimportant because typically within minutes they told him to piss off, or called him something along the lines of freak. But I, and Mrs. Hudson, knew it would be different with her. After all, she was practically a female version of the man, how could they not?  
"It's polite and Mrs. Hudson insisted. It's best to introduce ourselves rather than run into her leaving the building one day. I expect you'll be your natural, charming and polite self."  
"Oh yes, I can imagine I will be very charming to our new neighbor."  
With that, Sherlock entered flat 221a without so much of a knock. I couldn't help but shake my head at the man, of course he wouldn't knock, he never needed to. Everyone knew when Sherlock entered a room because it was suddenly filled to the brim with confidence that flowed from his aura. Mrs. Hudson sat in a chair in front of a fire place, the entire room warm in temperature and decor. There was something just so...her about the entire area. However, Sarisha was no where to be found.  
"Typically people knock before entering a room, you know." Ah, there she was.  
Both Sherlock and I turned at the sound of her monotone, bell like voice. I couldn't help but take in the woman's appearance again, she was truly beautiful. Her pale skin seemed to radiate with the slightest of light, and was deeply contrasted in color by her dark brunette hair that flowed easily to the middle of her back. Her bright red, full lips not only offered a contrast to her pale complexion, but made her eyes stand out. Her eyes were what held your attention. They were a round, sparkling pale blue with a dark blue rim surrounding. Her face was classic with soft features and high cheeks, tinted a soft pink. The beauty the woman possessed was timeless. Her body was shaped well, with a near perfect hourglass shape accentuated by a high waisted, white pencil skirt overlapping a royal purple sweater underneath a black blazer.  
Glancing up at Sherlock, I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. Of course, he wasn't interested in her beauty. He was trying to deduce her.  
"Ah, but I am anything but typical. You'll learn that for yourself eventually, I'm-"  
"Sherlock Holmes, John's flatmate, of course. A highly functioning sociopath...a very intelligent one. You don't work, yet you are a consulting detective for the police...also odd because you have authority issues, probably because you have a family member in a high form of government. Not your father and your mother was from wealth so she never really needed a job, leading me to believe your brother. You're a science man, mostly interested in the human body, though living people tend to bore you...not that it's much of a surprise, typically everything bores you at some point or another."  
I thought Sherlock would scream. I could just see him losing his temper, telling Sarisha what he thought of her, forbidding Mrs. Hudson from allowing her to move in, and storming from the room to enter the solitude of 221b. The great deducer had been deduced. I once again chanced a gaze up into his face...to find a small smirk.  
"Like you're much different? I've read your books, Miss Holdell and I know from such you are just as much a sociopath as myself. You're also intelligent, but very hard to deal with because you have a strive to prove yourself. This probably caused your family to abandon you at a very young age, causing any ordinary person trauma. But you...you are anything but ordinary. You're a skilled fighter, you could probably kill me with your bare hands right now before John could try to stop you. You are wealthy, which explains the expensive taste of your clothes. You wear gloves because you don't want anyone to find your fingerprints...but answer one question for me...how long has it been since you assassinated someone?"  
A smile broke out on the young woman's voice and she let out a small laugh. Sherlock, at this point also smiled and walked over to the woman, shaking her small, gloved hand in his own. He gazed down into her eyes, and the eyes of two sociopaths met. You could feel them trying to study each other further, trying to absorb more intelligence to personally expand themselves. It was a flurry of moving eyes, of small smirks and narrowing expression. What seemed like hours really only translated to ten seconds of an introduction.  
"Sarisha Holdell in the flesh. How very interesting, it will be simply great to have you in our building. An honor, really...John, get the woman a chair and pour her some more tea, she is a legend." Sherlock's voice wasn't quite hurried, but I could sense his urgency to have her comfortable. "Sarisha did a lot of favors for the British government ten years ago. She kept the profession for around six years before settling down and writing. She was an assassin, John, and a damned good one. Oh, excuse my language then, Mrs. Hudson! This woman was so discreet, enemy governments never even got close to touching her. Truly magnificent...I'm afraid I must interview you later about how exactly you killed them..."  
"Sherlock! It's not decent...you shouldn't..." Mrs. Hudson, of course, was distraught over the fact. She never liked it much when Sherlock got overly excited over things normal people would be disturbed by. "I'm afraid it's getting terribly late. The men have just gotten through with the basement flat, dear, John will show you to it, I'm sure. Good night boys, Sarisha."  
With that, Mrs. Hudson exited toward a room we could only assume was her bedroom. Sherlock and Sarisha were still staring intensely at each other, never breaking eye contact. Sarisha whispered something to Sherlock I couldn't hear from my position, but the look on his face told me he was interested in whatever it was. He whispered back to her lightly, making her laugh her chilling laugh. While the woman was unnerving, she was captivating and charming, her every move graceful and her laugh musical.  
"John. You may retire for the evening, I will be up to the flat very late. Our new neighbor and I have things to discuss. Don't wait up for me, of course. Stay off of my couch. Goodnight, John."  
With that, Sherlock and Sarisha made their exit, crossing the hall and descending the steps into 221c. I made my own departure, walking up the stairs to 221b. It was lonesome, and without Sherlock the clutter seemed out of place. He seemed to pull it all together, somehow. When the clutter surrounded him, it all fell into place, like it all had a purpose and place. Without him...it was nothing.

Author Note: OK guys I need some help on making a creative decision. I have officially decided to turn this to a Moriarty/OC story. He will be introduced very soon, don't worry. Also, for the Sherlock fans he will be getting his own story soon. I thought Sarisha would fit with Jimmy better.  
My decision lingering, however, is including another romance. Personally I love Mycroft and think it would be very interesting if there was a bit of Sarisha/Mycroft romance. What would you guys think? Interested? Leave your thoughts in comments/reviews. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3-The Feeling In 221c

**Alright guys, here's the deal. I woke up late last night. In my time, it was 2 in the morning. And I reread my story so far, because I like to do that before I start a new chapter. And all I could think was "What was I thinking putting Sarisha with Moriarty? Sherlock would be much more...interesting." After reading some private messages from a helpful few, I have decided this will be a Sherlock/OC story. She sort of fits with Sherlock, and it could be much more interesting. **

**To those who were looking forward to Moriarty/OC...I've started his story as well. Don't fret, the first chapter will be released soon.**

**Reviews are welcome! Seriously...I need to know what you think for a bit of Mycroft/Sarisha in this story! Thank you all for reading!**

Chapter 3

(Sarisha POV)

Entering the flat with Sherlock for my first time was interesting. I'd called my mover, who was actually an old acquaintance who had owed my a favor, and he had brought all of my personal things to the flat. As I'd said, he was an old acquaintance so he knew how I kept my places. Everything was how it would have been in an old flat, books and parchment placed on the floors, scientific things on the table, etc. It was home.

"Well then, you're already moved in. It looks like you've already started to live here. Who moved all of this in an unpacked? Perhaps a..boyfriend?"

I laughed softly at Sherlock's voice. It was a short, curt laugh and he looked to me and smiled his knowing smile. The both of us laughed together for a short moment, he knew the answer. We both knew the answer. People like us, we didn't have relationships. We barely had friends, being romantic with someone was...not practical for us.

"An old acquaintance of mine moved all of it in and unpacked. He owed me a favor, I saved his life once upon a time. He figured he would be at least partially even with me if he did this one favor." I motioned for Sherlock to sit at a black leather seat and I took the chair opposite him after setting biscuits and tea in front of us on the foot table. I once again motioned, but this time to the table. "Though I'd say he still owes me a bit after what I did for him. It was quite...messy, after all."

"How DO you do it, Sarisha? Assassinate them. And no one can trace it back to you...that's how they know it's you. Once someone who needs disappearing is gone, with no trace of a killer...it gets pinned to you. You're the go-to woman for the British government..."

"Not anymore. I've given up that life, remember? It became incredibly droll. Traveling around, assassinating people, coming home and refusing knighthood, waiting for the next assignment and always hiding out. Hiding out for reasons I don't want to hide out..." I picked up a cup of tea and took a sip, relishing the heat of the liquid as it passed through my lips. I peered over to Sherlock to find his eyes locked on me, silently asking me one question: how? "Oh alright then. I'm afraid I really can't tell you all of it, I'd have to show you. But...I still have a bit of what I need, hold on."

I stood slowly with the elegant grace of a ballerina. I had to search for a moment around my belongings before I found the locked case of vials that was the secret to my success. Slowly, I removed one and stared at the sparkling, purple liquid in the vial. To everyone else, it looked beautiful. Appetizing, like drinking it would make you feel the best you ever would.

Well that was far from the truth. For a moment, it was bliss. As soon as it passed through your lips, you felt blissful, like you could never be hurt or unhappy again. Then, slowly it broke that down. You felt like nothing could ever go right again, and slowly you became more...and more...and more depressed. Then finally, you were in excruciating pain.

By then, they were begging me for mercy. Asking for forgiveness for all of the things they had ever done wrong. Of course, it didn't last long, because the liquid was a poison that killed within twenty minutes.

But you can't convince someone to drink it just based off how it looks, so where it really got people was the smell. It smelled of everything desirable to each individual person. The people in the lab that had helped me make the potion were not overly excited about that point, but I was. It made my job much easier. Slowly, I turned and returned to Sherlock, holding the vial carefully in my hands.

"This is my secret Sherlock. It's a poison, completely untraceable in the body. I'm the only person in the world that has access to it, and I'm the only person...alive...that knows how to make it."

"Do you inject it, then? Sneak up on them in an alley, inject it into them when they aren't looking? That's...boring."

"Oh no. I don't make them die. In a sense, they...they kill themselves." I smirked lightly and rolled the vial between my hands and stared him in the eyes. "They can't resist but drink it. And if they don't drink it...well, I know a few...hand to hand combat tricks. I can handle a gun. But that's not happened many times..."

"So what, you convince them to drink a vial that will mean their death and they do it willingly?" I smirked and nodded, still gazing into his eyes. "That doesn't seem very likely...you assassinate people of importance, intelligent people the parliament doesn't want around anymore. People that could cause our nation a lot of problems. And you, a petite, sociopathic, beautiful young woman make convince them to drink to their death."

"Oh Sherlock...I don't convince them to drink. They convince themselves." Slowly I moved to sit on the arm of Sherlock's chair. I looked down at him and smiled, uncorking the vial and holding it to him. "Go ahead, take it. I'll stop you from drinking it...I don't want you dead, after all. It will...upset you that you can't consume it...but I'll stop you. But you have to know. You and I both know...you have to know."

Sherlock's blue eyes met mine, and for a moment, I dove in. I dove into the ocean that was his eyes, allowing myself to feel free and full for once. Staring into his eyes, the abyss that peered into his soul, my heart seemed to forget what gravity was and, really, it felt like it was floating away. My whole body felt like it was floating away...this feeling, it was something I'd never felt before. I couldn't put a name to it, but I knew looking at Sherlock I didn't want to look away.

Slowly, I held the vial to him with a shaking hand. He looked at me questioningly before his large hand took the vial from my own. His fingers grazed mine, and I found myself drawing in a sharp breath. Slowly, Sherlock lifted the vial to his lips...and I waited for what could only be interesting.

(Sherlock POV)

As soon as the vial hit my lips, I instinctively drew in a deep breath to try and decide what my body would swallow. His olfactory sense went into immediate overload. It was everything good he had ever smelled, everything he had ever desired, everything that had brought him...joy. The smell of freshly brewed tea, the smell of chemicals found in a morgue, the scent of paper and books, the smell of John's aftershave, cigarette smoke and the smell of the biscuits his mom would make for his brother and he when they were left inside on a rainy day. And then...the overwhelming scent he couldn't place a home to...it was like vanilla, rain, mint and roses all pulled into one, overwhelming scent.

He couldn't help it. He couldn't resist the need to swallow the vial in one gulp. He didn't want it, he needed it. He needed to know the taste, to know the happiness those things had once brought him. He needed the fulfillment of the drink, he needed it now...

Slowly I tipped the vial back, only to have it swatted from my hand before the liquid passed my lips. My nostrils flared and I quickly searched for the source of the hand, only to find it was from Sarisha.

"Give me that. I need to drink it. I have to. I need it..." I stared into the eerie blue eyes of the woman, only to be met by her pitiful gaze. She held apology in her eyes and I growled. "You BITCH! I NEED IT! GIVE IT TO ME!"

I lunged for her, lunged to grab the vial only to have her throw the vial to the fireplace. I tackled her to the couch and kept my hands around her arms. Fear did not flash over her face, instead she started whispering apologies to me before I felt a needle enter my skin. The last thing I could comprehend before passing out was the overwhelming smell of vanilla, rain, mint and roses as my head fell to Sarisha's shoulder.

(Back to Sarisha POV)

I'd never felt guilt in my life until that moment. I knew as soon as Sherlock inhaled the vial it was going to a bad place...the look of pleasure that washed over his face told me he had to drink the vial. He wanted to, he needed to. I took it from him and broke the vial into the fire place. I'd thought for a moment he was going to hurt me when he'd tackled me...but even before I'd injected him with an anesthetic something in him had softened. Laying him on my couch was interesting, as was getting him comfortable enough for bed. I'd removed his shoes, socks, belt and jacket, loosening a few buttons on his shirt.

My curiosity had been overwhelming...I'd wanted to see everything that was concealed by the shirt, to see what was sculpted under the smooth fabric. Once he looked comfortable enough, I slipped a pillow under his head and a blanket draped across his body. I had gently brushed one of the stray curls from his forehead and pressed my lips to his forehead sweetly as my mother had done to me when I was very young. The skin beneath my lips was soft, and I couldn't help to wonder again, but this time what his lips felt like. I shook the thought from my mind and stood to my full height, relishing the gentle smile that was on his lips. I turned the lights and walked slowly to my own bedroom.

Laying down, I stared up at the ceiling. It was relaxing to be able to lay and think for the first time since the day before.

I'd never felt drawn to someone before. Sure, I'd found men handsome but Sherlock...Sherlock was gorgeous. Sherlock was handsome, beautiful, stunning...attractive...sexy. I wanted Sherlock's lips to cover mine, his arms to enclose me in a tight embrace that made me feel safe and warm.

I wanted Sherlock. I was drawn to him. He made my heart soar, my stomach do flips and my mind go into overload. I couldn't process everything at once around him like I normally could. I could only focus on Sherlock, he seemed to distract me from everything else around me.

And now, without him within reach of me...I felt empty. This feeling was so intense, I couldn't fathom what it was. What could the feeling possibly be that had started tonight in 221c?


	4. Chapter 4-Romance Me

**Chapter 4**

**When Sherlock woke the next morning, I heard him groan from my place in the kitchen. Looking up from the paper didn't seem to be needed, he'd come to me if he needed attention. So rather than go to him, I continued to read an article on four serial suicides that had taken place in London over the past couple of weeks. **

**Chief Detective Inspector Lestrade had given note to the press they had brought in another detective, a specialist of sorts, to help them solve the source of the suicides, since it had been brought to their attention now they were murders. A chair being pulled drew my attention away, and I looked into the eyes of Sherlock Holmes.**

**"Well good morning. Did you get enough rest, Mister Holmes? Wouldn't want you to be overly tired for this serial suicide case." I smiled lightly and kept his gaze, and he let out a tired yawn. **

**"You drugged me last night."**

**"You attacked me."**

**"Yet you let me stay in your flat?"**

**"I can handle myself." My eyes held his gaze as I pushed a platter of bacon and eggs to him, motioning for him to eat. "It will make you feel better. And you didn't attack me because you wanted to hurt me, you attacked me because you wanted the vial."**

**"Is that why some people call you what can translate to 'The Siren'? Because of that poison...it draws you to it, it smells of what you deeply desire. Unique to everyone...like the song of the sirens in Ancient Greece. Your poison is impossible to resist." **

**I nodded slowly and took a drink of my tea, laying the paper down. For a moment, all I did was watch him. Studied his behavior as he ate, how the different muscles in his face, hands and arms moved to accommodate his movement. His eyes never left me, either, he was trying to study me...trying to study someone who was doing nothing that needed studying. I met his eyes again and sighed.**

**"It's dangerous, you know. The poison...the men who created it are all dead now. Once they'd gotten it right, even they couldn't resist it, though they knew it's effects. A team of the twelve best chemists in Britain all gone. They each couldn't bear not drinking it. They were...my friends, I guess you could say. The only ones I've ever had. Well, I wouldn't call them friends, but a couple of them came close. They're all dead."**

**"If even they couldn't resist it, how can you? You were around that stuff everyday for years, you had to of smelt it at least once. How did you resist it?"**

**A smile fell onto my lips...the kind of smile that holds sadness and remembrance. I took the last drink of my tea and tore my eyes away from Sherlock. I couldn't look at him and say this, I didn't even know why I was saying it at all. With a sigh, I looked into the fireplace.**

**"I was forced to build an immunity. I was injected with small doses every day for a few months. Eventually, my body built up against it. I've drank it a few times, but it doesn't effect me. I only use it when...I get very depressed..."**

**I gazed to him again slowly and his eyes shown with sadness. I didn't see how they could, as a sociopath...but it was an emotion I had seen many times before, and there it was, on his face. He slowly reached over and placed his hand over mine, giving it a light squeeze.**

**"I've got...I've got to go to our flat because John and I are going out on the case today. When I come back later tonight, I want to...take you out for Chinese food." **

**His eyes stared into mine and I couldn't help but let a soft smile form on my lips. This handsome...dare I say stunning...man wanted to take time out of his evening to take me for Chinese food. **

**"I'd enjoy that. Try to be home by at least nine so we can head there at a reasonable time. I'll see you then..." **

**We stood together and walked to my door. As he turned to leave, he looked down at me with soft eyes. It was as though we'd known each other our whole lives, like we had known each other for much longer than a day. Slowly, Sherlock inclined his head toward mine and brushed his lips against my cheek in a gentle goodbye, and left my flat. **

**(John POV)**

**As the door to the flat opened, I looked up from the television. It was Sherlock, in the same clothes as the night before, with a gentle smile plastered on his face. He looked well rested, like he'd gotten a long, good night's sleep. The man needed it, he'd hardly slept since the suicides had begun.**

**"Morning. You look well. Did you have a good night?"**

**"If you are insinuating that her and I had intercourse, the answer is no, we did not. We talked about her prior profession, she showed me the poison which was used against enemies of the country to kill them. It is impossible to resist, even I couldn't resist it, it was...the most overpowering sensation I've ever felt. Sarisha saved me, gave me an anesthetic so I was knocked out until about thirty minutes ago, she made me breakfast, and I asked her on a date to have Chinese later with me. Now, are you ready to go? I need to shower first, I'm afraid..."**

**"Wait, hold on. You asked a girl on a date?"**

**"No, not a girl. A woman, Sarisha. You met her yesterday, our new neighbor. Remember?"**

**"Yes yes, that's all very well and I understand that but...you. You've asked her on a date? As in, more than friends, a date. Where two people that like each other-"**

**"Yes, John, I have asked Sarisha on a date. She intrigues me and I would like to get to know more about her. I just want to eat dinner with her and have a chance to pick at her mind more, is all. Nothing more."**

**"Would you...want to eventually be with her?" **

**"Oh heavens John, don't be ludicrous. I'm still a sociopath, as is she. A relationship between the two of us would be near impossible. I just want to get to know her more individually. Nothing is wrong with that."**

**"Of course not..."**

**(Sarisha POV)**

**It had been hours since Sherlock had left. I was still left with an odd feeling in my stomach that had began after he kissed my cheek. It was the same feeling I'd felt looking into his eyes last night. Like gravity had forgotten to exist and I was in a state of constant floating. **

**"My brother isn't easy to live beneath, Mrs. Holdell. You'd be best to move in with someone who better suits your quiet nature." **

**A smile formed on my lips as I heard a voice I had grown to love, one I would never be able to forget as long I lived. I kept my eyes focused on the dancing flames of the fireplace, not needing to turn to see him. I knew he was standing leaned onto his umbrella, looking dapper as always with his ever present smirk on his lips. The lips I hadn't seen in a while...**

**"You know I've always hated it when you just barge into my living areas unannounced with no prior knowledge you were coming."**

**"You know I always hated being predictable."**

**"With a career in elections how could you be anything but."**

**I heard his chuckle and slowly and walked to me, leaning his umbrella against the back of my chair as he began stroking my hair.**

**"Reading...how typical of you. You're always so predictable, Sarisha. You have been since you were eighteen and I doubt it will ever change."**

**"Mycroft, you know I dislike it when you give me this attention. It makes me dreadfully hopeful..."**

**"That I could date you? Well, that's why I came..."**

**"Don't break my heart again, Mycroft. I couldn't bear it."**

**I turned in my chair and sat up on my knees, looking him straight in the eyes. His softened as they always did around me, and his hand continued to linger on my hair. He searched my face slowly and let himself smile, the smile growing as I returned it. My hand moved to his shoulder, and for a moment, I was lost.**

**You see, Mycroft had been twenty three when I was eighteen. He had already began his political career, and when I was brought in to be a trained assassin, he was there. Mycroft had cared for me, and somewhere along the lines I had fallen desperately for the man. I wouldn't say love because I despised verbalizing my emotions, and I didn't quite think it was love. But I wanted to be with Mycroft, and I had every day since then. **

**But Mycroft was so dedicated to his work. He couldn't go into a relationship when he was trying to move his way into the British government and eventually become very high up. So, repeatedly Mycroft had refused me. He hadn't wanted to, and there had been a few times where we'd gotten caught in the heat of a moment and shared small kisses. There had been even less times where Mycroft and I had shared deep, passionate kisses. And there was one time where we got stuck in a car in the winter...well, that was a lot more than kissing.**

**"Are you reminiscing on our past again, my dear?" Slowly Mycroft sank to the arm of my seat rubbing circles around my shoulders. **

**"I may be. Your brother asked me to dinner tonight, Mycroft. I told him I would go."**

**"As a date?"**

**"It wasn't discussed."**

**"I'd prefer it not to be, Sarisha. You know how I feel about you, my dear...I believe I'm ready for this relationship to move forward. My place in the government is secure, finally. I have enough security that I wouldn't have to worry about your wellbeing. We could finally be together, after all this time..."**

**"Mycroft, I waited so long for you. I waited everyday for years for you to come to me and say this. And now...now that I've waited so long, I need you to convince me it's what I need. Can you do that, for me? Romance me. Court me. Convince me I should be with you. Convince me you want to be with me. Mycroft, this is important to me."**

**"We can't tell Sherlock just yet, my dear. Anthea will be sure to leave a message saying you've had to visit an old friend tonight, you'll be missing dinner with him, I'm afraid. I'm taking you somewhere." Mycroft slowly lowered his lips to my temple and inhaled deeply, sighing softly a warm breath against my skin. "I'm sorry, Sarisha. That it's taken me so long..." **

**"Don't make me change my mind."**

**Author note: Yep, gonna have a bit of a Mycroft/Sarisha romance while Sherlock and Sarisha are getting to know each other. They can't end up together that quickly, I hate when that happens in stories. Anyway, I hope you enjoy where I'm headed with this. Please leave reviews, thanks! **


	5. Chapter 5-Let's Get Chinese

Chapter Five

And oh, was Mycroft determined to keep my mind the same. The moment he left my flat, I received a phone call from his assistant giving me instructions for the day. I was to take a shower, enter a cab in front of my flat at 2 pm, pick up the package waiting for me in the shop where I was dropped off, return home and finish getting ready. I was warned to be ready at exactly 6 pm because Mycroft would not be kept waiting.

When I reached my destination around two-thirty pm, I was pleasantly surprised to be at a dress boutique. When I had first come to London, I had passed the shop every day, peering inside at the beautiful dresses. Once I met Mycroft, he and I would walk to work together everyday and he would mock me openly as I fantasized about the dresses.

Apparently, he'd remembered.

Tentatively I walked inside and to the counter. No one was behind it, so I took to walking around the shop, smiling at the different fabrics and lengths and embellishments. The dresses were truly something from a dream.

"Excuse me miss, can I help you?"

I turned to see an elderly woman dressed in a long, flowing day dress with her hair back. A pencil was tucked behind her ear and she looked at me questioningly. Although she looked weary, she looked kind enough and managed a soft smile.

"Oh sorry, I was just admiring your gowns, they're simply beautiful. I have a package to pick up, a friend of mine told me to come get it. Mycroft Holmes?" The moment I said Mycroft's name, her entire face lit up.

"Oh, dear! You should have rang the bell, I know you must be in a hurry! Mycroft was so flustered when he came in and had the dress ordered, he was simply glowing, though! I wouldn't say the two of you are just friends, though, he had the look of a lovestruck boyfriend, that boy did! Well come on, we'll make sure everything fits and I'll place some jewelry on you and send you on your way to have your hair done!"

Quickly I was pushed to a dressing room and a dress was laid into my arms. Slowly, I slipped the gown onto my body. Turning and looking in the mirror, my jaw dropped. The material of the dress was tight fitting until the knee where it slightly flared out, sweetheart cut at the neckline and nude colored. However, there was a sheer layer over the nude dress that had black lace appliqués that trailed into a high collar on my neck. The dress made me look beautiful, like a princess.

The woman slowly joined me again. She slowly zipped the dress and smiled lightly at the perfect fit. She slowly handed me a pair of black heels, and I sat down to put them on, buckling them and standing again. Even with the two inch heels, the gown had a train flowing behind me. The woman got a devious look as she placed a platinum and diamond Tiffany bracelet around my wrist.

"That's what I meant by there's no way he couldn't be your boyfriend..he's going to great lengths to spoil you this evening, dear. He mentioned he's kept you waiting for him a very long time...Mycroft is a good boy. There's a salon next door that will do your hair, makeup and nails if you wish. Can't have you fussing about in this gown."

"Thank you so much. This is all beautiful..."

"Thank Mycroft, dear."

At six o clock pm exactly I entered the cab in front of my flat. The driver commented on my beauty and I thanked him generously. I dozed off gently on the way to my secret destination. It took a while, but finally the driver awoke me.

"Miss, we've arived."

I opened my eyes and they immediately widened. The cab was parked in the drive of Buckingham Palace, and Mycroft stood in an all black tux leaned casually against his umbrella which, ironically, was the same color as my dress. I smiled lightly at the nervous smile on his face, stepping slowly out of the cab when the cabbie opened the door.

"Thank you, sir."

I slowly walked to Mycroft, who pulled a bouquet of deep red roses from behind his back, leaning forward and kissing my cheek softly. His natural scent seemed more potent, and even with my heels he loomed over me. I didn't mind of course, the height difference was endearing to me.

"My darling, I'm so glad you decided to come with me this evening. I do hope you've not had much to eat today, there is a feast awaiting us in the quadrangle. Then, of course, we will have dessert by the back pond and lay on some pillows and observe the stars. They're meant to be beautiful tonight, you see...I figured they'd be lovely for you to look at as I gaze to you."

I blushed lightly and stepped forward to brush his cheek with my fingertips. Mycroft was never viewed as handsome, women did not swoon over him...well, this one did. I found Mycroft handsome, endearing...seductive. I stood on my toes to press my lips gently to his cheek and smiled lightly as a blush spread across his cheeks. Typical Mycroft...

"You look ravishing, Sarisha. I don't know how I'll ever return you tonight..."

(John POV)

Sherlock Holmes was moping. It was something I'd not had the...pleasure...of experiencing yet and something I didn't realize could happen. It was rather unbecoming for him.

He was held up in his room, staring at the note that had been left for him. It wasn't in Sarisha's writing, he could tell the writing would never be hers, but it was a woman's. It informed him that, his night out with his friend would have to be postponed until further planning because Sarisha had been called to an old friend for help.

Sherlock could assume that meant she was going to assassinate again, meaning getting to know her would be put off for a very long time. This had upset him, because he was desperately looking forward to getting to know her more.

The moping was driving me insane, so I couldn't help but yell, "Come on, Sherlock, let's go get some Chinese food."

Author's Note: Hi guys! Sorry this chapter is so short, I've had a rather busy day. There's going to be action in the next chapter...Sarisha action. We shall see! Could be rated M for a reason soon...again, we shall see! How about that gentlemanly Mycroft? And poor Sherlock...please review! Thanks for reading/following/favoriting!


	6. Chapter 6-Playing a Game

Warning! The rating of 'M' comes into play here...lemon contained. You've been warned.

Chapter Six

(Sarisha POV)

I could have figured Mycroft would have two horses waiting for us to ride to the back pond...it wasn't exactly a quick walk through the back gardens of the palace. I smiled and rolled my eyes upon walking outside, he had a black stallion and mine white...very typical of him. He was one to follow romantic cliches.

"I do hope you remember how to ride. As I recall, you were once excellent at riding."

"Of course I can, Mycroft! All you need to hope for is that you can keep up."

I smirked lightly and climbed ontop of my horse quickly, waiting for him to mount his own before making my horse run off into the night. In a blur, I could hear Mycroft laugh behind me and I couldn't help but laugh loudly, something I hadn't done for years. I reached the water first and laughed again. He didn't reach my position until a couple of minutes after.

"I win! I so won. Mycroft, you really are desperately out of practice!" I giggled out softly, laying forward on my horse so my cheek was on it's neck. I looked to Mycroft and smiled lightly, remembering slowly how Mycroft had made the sociopathic part of me disappear. I caught my breath slowly and laughed again. "You really need to practice some more."

"Maybe you could train me, my dear. I always did do better when better when I had a teacher...a particularly beautiful one might make it hard to focus, but I'd strive to impress her..."

"You have always and will always impress me, Mycroft. You should know that..."

"I like to believe the things I do will impress you. I always have."

Slowly Mycroft dismounted and held his hand to me. I took it gently and immediately sparks through my arm. I smiled as he helped me down, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. I fell against him and looked up into his eyes, smiling softly as I wrapped my own slender arms around his neck.

"Are we star gazing now, Mycroft?

"We will be in a moment. It's such a warm night..." Slowly I felt myself being lifted from the ground and into his arms. "I figured it would be nice if...we went for a swim."

Before I could react, Mycroft had thrown me, still in my dress, into the pond. I let out a scream as I plunged into the warm water, and when I resurfaced Mycroft was undressing, not trying to repress his laughter at all.

"Oh Mycroft, you've ruined this dress! And my hair and my makeup...!"

"You don't need any of that, my dear." He looked down slowly into the water as he pulled his pants off, now only in his briefs and undershirt. "Go ahead and take the dress off...it will be fine. I'll have it cleaned."

"Oh you are such an evil man! How can a man in the government be so evil?"

"Stop your fussing and have a nice time. You can let go every once and a while, you know!"

I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the water while he stepped in. I peeled the dress of, blushing at my lace underwear and bra. I rolled my eyes at Mycroft as he peered up at me smirking, licking his lips lightly. He did a cat call and I couldn't help but laugh and throw a small stick at him. After I took off my shoes, I stepped back into the water and giggled as Mycroft swam back to me quickly. I placed my hands gently on the hem of his shirt and smirked as I began to move it off.

"This just won't do..."

"I didn't realize my keeping some sort of covering on my torso would upset you."

"Oh, but it would..."

"You don't see me fussing that you've got some cover."

"I'm not skinny dipping in Buckingham Palace, Mycroft Holmes!"

A smirk fell onto his lips as he leaned down and pressed his soft lips to my forehead. I rolled my eyes and let out a soft giggle as my cheeks flushed red. I slowly sat my hands slightly above the band of his underwear and smirked as his body grew in temperature. That wiped the smirk off his face real quick...but it was soon returned.

Mycroft effortlessly picked me up and leaned me against the edge of the pond, forcing my legs around his waist. I could feel his already hardening member against my sex and I gasped lightly, making his smirk grow. He leaned forward, lightly trailing kisses on my neck, eliciting a moan from me.

"Mycroft...this...this isn't the appropriate place for this..."

"Stop trying to make sense of it, Sarisha. I've missed you. I want you...you want me...you won't refuse me, I know you won't...turn off the logical side of your brain and let me ravish you."

I looked into his eyes as he was speaking, biting my lip at the dark, lustful look in his eyes. I nodded slowly and let him continue his kisses, moaning as he hit my weak spot on my neck. He smirked and began licking, biting and sucking the spot, certainly leaving a dark mark on the spot. I moaned my approval in the form of his name, and he slipped his hands behind my back to remove my bra. Once he did, one of his hands cupped a breast and began massaging it, while his mouth moved down to the other. He began to suck on the nipple, gaining another louder moan from me, which he returned.

I slowly slipped my hand down to his boxers and lightly pulled them off. Once his member was free, I felt it press against my thigh, almost to its full length. I moaned again and lightly circled my hand around him, beginning to rub him up and down slowly. He growled lightly and moved his mouth up to mine in a hard kiss.

"I don't have time for...for this nonsense. I can't wait. I need you, my dear. Please allow me..."

I nodded my approval and he quickly removed my underwear, looking into my eyes as he slipped himself into me. As I let a moan slip, he groaned his approval and waited only a second to let me adjust. Soon, he began moving inside me, thrusting barely to set up a rhythm. I wrapped my arms around his back, digging my nails in slightly as he moved. He took that as approval, and grunted as he began to thrust harder, pulling nearly completely out before shoving back in roughly.

I moaned again, louder and longer, and he began thrusting faster. I clawed my nails down his back as he kept a steady pace, before I moaned that I was, unfortunately, reaching my limit. He moaned and agreed, picking up the pace. The water around us was in ripples, splashing around as he moved his body quickly.

As he began to hit my spot over and over, I screamed his name and relished the orgasm that came after. He grunted and kissed me as he pushed in a few more times, pulling out before he released his seed into the water.

As we came down from our high, Mycroft pulled me into his chest and kissed my head lightly. I laid my head against his chest as he pulled me slowly from the water. After sitting on the edge for a moment to calm, Mycroft placed his pants and undershirt back on, handing me a dry pair of undergarments for myself. After I had the bra and panties on, he handed me his black dress shirt. As I put the oversized piece of clothing on buttoning it up, he smiled and drank in the sight of me in his shirt. He walked to me and placed a large hand on my cheek, leaning down to kiss me tenderly.

Once he pulled away, we lay in a each other's arms for hours on a pile of pillows and blankets, enjoying the sight of the stars.

"What do you mean, you don't want to talk about where you were? It's nearly midnight, Sarisha. The note said you were with an old friend. You look as though you've been crying. What is going on?"

I could have guessed Sherlock Holmes would have waited on me. The moment I entered the door, he was sitting on my couch, staring at me intently. Luckily, Mycroft and I had seen that coming, though, so before I entered I started to fake cry. Sherlock couldn't be upset with me if I were crying, right?

"Fine. I just. It's a very old friend of mine from primary school, the only person that had been kind to me before she moved away. She. She's dying, Sherlock, but don't worry. It will all be okay, she's. Going to be in a better p-place after all..."

"Sarisha I'm...I'm so sorry I didn't mean to...here." Sherlock stood and walked to me, ready to embrace me.

"No, no I'm sorry. I need air. Please just...let me be."

I quickly walked outside to find a cab waiting in front of the flat, the cabbie waiting outside the cab with the door open. The cabbie was an older man, dressed in clothes that looked to be a few years old and a golfer's clothes.

"Cab for Miss Sarisha Holdell."

"I haven't ordered a cab."

"Just because you haven't ordered one, doesn't mean you don't need one."

I looked at the man and narrowed my eyes slowly. Days ago, before I'd even come to London, I had read the papers on the suicides. I had known they were murders long before...long before the police had. I had deduced the only person likely to be able to kidnap those people would be a cabbie...and there was no doubt in my mind the man in front of me was this man.

"So I get in the cab with you, you drive me to an old wore down building and kill me like those other four people? Boring. Not my ideal way to die, if you ask me." I spoke in my normal monotone voice, not letting any emotion show on my face.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you, Miss Holdell. You're too great for that, that would make me feel like a right bad person if I wasted your intelligence. No, no, I'm going to drive you to a quiet place and you are going to kill yourself."

"You seem very confident in that. All I have to do is scream, Sherlock and John are inside. They'll come out to protect me. And then we'll get you sent to jail."

"You won't do that, because if you do, I will never tell you how I got those people to kill themselves." Slowly, he opened the back door and motioned for me to enter. I kept my face calm as I slowly stepped into the cab. Before closing the door, the man whispered, "That's a good girl. Good decision."

"Honestly, of all the places to bring me to die, you bring me to the forest? How ordinary. Really, the gun won't be necessary, not like it is anyway, it's a fake gun." I glanced slightly his way as I stepped from the cab and rolled my eyes. "I can tell a real gun from a fake one."

"The others couldn't."

"The others didn't have a superior IQ."

I slowly sat on a tall, wide rock opposite the one the cabbie had sat at. I kept my face stern as I looked him in the eye, keeping my expression cold and emotionless. Really, I had expected so much more from this man, and he was just an ordinary cabbie as dull as anyone else walking the streets.

"So, would you like to talk first or get right to it?"

"You're dying. I know why you're doing this. It's painfully obvious, really I expected much more of you. This case had been so interesting in the beginning but now...a forest, a fake gun and you're dying? Dull." I rolled my eyes at his shocked and impressed expression, sighing lightly. "Can I go home now? This is dull. My time is being wasted, and I would quite enjoy a good night's sleep. So what, how long do you have? Not long, I guess, since you've started killing people now just to say you could outlive someone. What is it, anyway? Cancer? Aneurysm?"

"I...it's a brain aneurysm. I could die any moment, you see. But I've outlived four people, soon to be five, once you die."

"Oh would you move on from that. I'm not going to die. I'm not going to kill myself. Nothing you could say would make me kill myself. Nothing you can say will matter to me..."

"It's a game, you see. I put two bottles in front of us. One in front of you, one in front of me. I let you choose. Whichever bottle you want to take, and I take the other. There's a good pill, and a bad pill and you choose."

"Your betting your own life because you're going to die soon anyway...still dull."

"Stop saying that it is dull! IT IS NOT DULL. It is complex, thought out, very difficult. I'm betting my own life!"

"YOU ARE GOING TO DIE ANYWAY, YOU DULL MAN." He looked up, surprised, at my sudden outburst. It was something few people had been able to see. I never let my temper flare, and even when it did slip I was alone. Or in the company of the dead. "You're going to die. Soon. Your life is going to slip away. You're going to die."

"You won't challenge me because you think you won't win. You don't trust that you are clever enough. Prove it. Prove yourself. Prove to me that you're clever..."

Slowly, I picked up the bottle in front of me. Who was this dull man to challenge my intelligence? I was more intelligent than he could ever hope to be. I opened the bottle and lifted the pill to my lips slowly as the cabbie did the same.

Slowly, I opened my mouth, beginning to enter the pill to my mouth.

"Your fan, my sponsor, was wrong. You will take it. You have challenged me."

"Shut up and take your medicine."

As the pills were about to enter our mouths, a gunshot went off, shooting the cabbie in the back of the head as a fatal shot.

"I'm fine. I'm really fine, Sherlock, John. I'm...I'm okay."

"You could have died, Sarisha. You were going to take that pill if John didn't...shoot that man, you would have died! What were you thinking?" Sherlock's eyes were dark, and he was clearly disappointed.

"He challenged my intelligence. It was a game, Sherlock. I had to win."

"Sarisha! Oh, my dear, Detective Inspector Lestrade called me and informed me of the situation, really, I can't leave you alone for thirty minutes without something happening to you?" Mycroft had arrived, taking off his suit coat and wrapping it around my shoulders. "I really should increase your security watch, I can't have you popping pills with serial murderers!"

"Mycroft, I'm fine...really, I am. I'm not hurt, I'd just really like to go home. I need sleep, tonight was dull after I left you, and until John killed the man..."

"You were with Mycroft this evening?"

Sherlock interrupted us promptly, his voice sharp. Oops...

"Yes, she was. Sarisha was on...top secret stuff for the government. I had my secretary write the note and Sarisha was ordered to lie to you to keep the secret." Slowly, Mycroft turned his attention to me, his eyes soft. "Can't have our secret getting out."

And in that moment, I think I finally understood Mycroft had avoided me all those years because he was ashamed of me.


End file.
